Post #100: Chuck felt his pulse quicken, strengthen, boom in the successive waves of light. The city was coming.
Post #99: Chuck remembered the coloured roofs and the call that used come from them, a signal to warn of the dark at the beginning of the day, when the windows seemed all the higher.
Post #98: Chuck yelled his frustrations up to the vault, where they echoed and played before they faded away.
Post #96: Chuck could never forget that winter was a hazardous time, when cooler winds brought cooler thoughts and frost encircled all.
Post #95: Chuck suddenly knew, with a shiver in the cold, where the clouds were born.
Post #94: Chuck did not need bright yellow painted stripes to remind him that the ground was ever present.
Post #93: Chuck was strung out like meltwater refrozen before it could hit the ground.
Post #91: Chuck crowned her and then asked for a dance in the neon lights.
Post #90: Chuck watched her eyes glide over the room, saw her smile and glow like a star spiting the sunrise.
Post #89: Chuck had lingered too long on the lights of the living city. He closed his eyes, shook his head, and ran back laughing into its midst.